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There's more in one soft word of thine
Than in the world's defied rebuke.
Thou stood'st, as stands a lovely tree,"
That still unbroke, though gently bent,
Still waves with fond fidelity

Its boughs above a monument.

The winds might rend-the skies might pour,

But there thou wert-and still wouldst be Devoted in the stormiest hour

To shed thy weeping leaves o'er me. But thou and thine shall know no blight, Whatever fate on me may fall;

For Heaven in sunshine will requite

The kind-and thee the most of all. Then let the ties of baffled love

Be broken-thine will never break; Thy heart can feel-but will not move;

Thy soul, though soft, will never shake. And these, when all was lost beside,

Were found and still are fixed in thee;And bearing still a breast so tried,

Earth is no desert - ev'n to me.

1. And thou wast as a lovely Tree
Whose branch unbroke but gently bent
Still waved with fond Fidelity.-[Copy C. H.]

[First published, Poems, 1816.]

END OF VOL. III.

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PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BECCLES.

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